


As Above, So Below

by WhatHaveWeDone



Category: Thunderbirds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 12:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 15,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13997955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatHaveWeDone/pseuds/WhatHaveWeDone
Summary: John Tracy is cut off from everyone and everything he has ever relied on, is he good enough to survive this?





	1. As Above Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, the story I had in my mind is in 'As Above', and i wanted to do it all from one point of view. But I felt some parts couldn't be told from just that one point of view, but I didn't like them running together, as that sort of ruined the style of the story. So those parts are in 'So Below'. I recommend that you read all the 'As Above' chapters before the 'So Below' chapters, but you can read them together as each 'As Above' takes place over the exact same time frame as each 'So Below' chapter.
> 
> There is a bit of a cliffhanger in the last 'As Above' chapter though because there is no way I'm giving you the end of the story in the middle!

John found that he was staring at the ceiling of Thunderbird 5. He was happy there, mind nice and blank, no thoughts or concerns. It had probably been a busy day – it was almost always busy as International Rescue – so it was nice to have a break for a change. He could smell….. what was that? Smoke? Was someone starting up the barbeque? Surely not on Thunderbird 5. No, it wasn't quite smoke. Something overheating? Maybe. Wait. Overheating. Thunderbird 5. That wasn't a good combination. Thought flooded back, and with it pain.

He let out a low moan and closed his eyes again as he felt residual zaps of electricity flare from his arms, legs, back, chest, head – everywhere, it just hurt _everywhere_. On top of the feeling like he was being used as a school science experiment he felt an ache coming from the centre of his chest. Now that feeling had come back so had hearing and there was a low pitched beep from the main console that was calling for his attention. He thought he knew what that sound was, though he had never had cause to hear it before. Another moan and he forced his eyes open once more, and sat up. That made him slightly dizzy as he felt a stabbing from his left shoulder. It sent shockwaves of fire down his arm, through his chest and back. He steadied himself before standing, noting for the first time that his flight suit was scorched. _Something broken I think. Well it wouldn't be the first time._ He put a hand to the part of his head that hurt the most – a dull throb – and when he bought it down it was sticky with blood. He would have to be careful of concussion from that. Again, not the first time. He made his way slowly over to the computer.

"What's this for? Ah." John looked down at the display with a sigh. "EOS, are you there?" No response. As planned, he supposed, but not entirely welcome.

John pressed a button on the computer. "This is Thunderbird 5 to Tracy Island, come in please." Silence. "This is Thunderbird 5, do you copy?" Nothing. John shook his head, trying to clear from it the last of the cobwebs of unconsciousness. He looked over the various lights that were giving him information on the status of his station, and began again.

"This is Thunderbird 5: status update. Approximately …" John glanced at his watch, "20 minutes ago the convoy of reclaimed nuclear space mines on the way back to Earth for decommissioning was passing within 20 kilometers of Thunderbird 5. I don't know what happened – some kind of incident anyway and one went off, starting a chain reaction which produced a pretty impressive firework right outside my window."

There had been no warning, nothing was showing as wrong on any of his equipment until that first flash. Mines of that period were actually quite stable, but the explosion of one set them all off. He wondered if he would ever find out what that first trigger was.

"This area of space is currently saturated with high density radiation. Luckily it's short lived, but only International Rescue vehicles will be safe to travel through it for the next 12 hours or so. Also luckily it will dissipate after that and it shouldn't reach the Earth's atmosphere so don't worry about any fall out."

The risk to the planet below from the deadly radiation had been his first concern, but EOS had been quick to reassure him.

"However the debris from the mines did impact on the hull here, and caused a short in the power system, so it needed venting." John paused, remembering the sinking feeling as he saw the data and heard the analysis from EOS. He was pretty well protected from most things, here on the most advanced communications satellite in the solar system, but he wouldn't have been protected from Thunderbird 5 becoming a firework of it's own if a power system short had been left un-dealt with.

"Usually of course that would be done from outside, but even my space suit won't hold up to that radiation right now, so I did it internally." It had taken a hurried two minutes to unscrew the relevant panels so that he could climb between the layers of Thunderbird 5 and reach the emergency discharge panel from the inside. EOS had been calling out updates – radiation levels, how many seconds from discharge, likely survival rates. She still didn't quite understand that it's not a good idea to always share all the information you have at your disposal.

"I sent EOS into the central data core in case of static discharge, so she should be ok there for the moment." It had taken a yelled command for her to actually do it though, John was sure that he would pay for that later.

"Then I manually vented. There may have been a bit of a power surge." He winced in memory of being flung hallway through the station and feeling the shock as his shoulder and head hit a bulkhead. "OK, maybe a large power surge. I have a few more bruises than I did this morning, a cracking headache, and my shoulder needs to be looked at, but in good news the station is still in one piece. There appears to have been some damage though as I can see the emergency override has been activated and so all communications should now being directly received by Tracy Island." That little override light was the one making that low incessant bleep.

"From what I can see I think that my outbound comms still work so you should be able to hear me, but I've got errors on the inbound so I can't hear you." John studied the displays in front of him for a moment, noting an increase in the number of warning amber and danger red lights and then listened carefully. The holo-projection screens appeared to be off line and if EOS was not responding so was the main data core, so he was going to be able to access a lot less data than he was used to. "And there's a lot more I need to check out."


	2. As Above Part 2

John had spent more time on Thunderbird 5 than anywhere else in the last few years, so he knew every nut and bolt, panel and circuit. He had conducted hours of system checks and tests. When it was quiet he made running repairs and minor upgrades. He didn't know the station like the back of his hand, because he thought maybe he knew the station _better_ than he would know his own hand. After all he never actually studied his own hands. He also knew every sound it made: each system had it's own hum, it's own tone, that meant it was never truly quiet up there. John had noticed that the background symphony of the station had changed, and that was not good.

He could search the station to find out which system was affected, but it was probably best to go right to the source of any problem. He grabbed his tool kit and a medical pack from under the consule – there were a lot of them stashed around the station for just such emergencies. He carefully put his arm in a sling and swallowed a couple of pain killers. _Yep, definitely broken_ he thought trying to fight back the nausea his shoulder was causing. He transferred the open comms channel to his watch so he wouldn't have to yell his running commentary. His head already hurt enough, he didn't need loud noises on top of that.

"OK guys, we are going for a little explore. I think system diagnostics is just one thing that has been knocked off line by that surge, so I am going to inspect the damage. And you are coming with me."

John went back to the panels he had previously removed, and crawled back under Thunderbird 5's skin. This time he shuffled along a bit, and started inspecting circuit boards. It was slow going with his shoulder, being careful not to lean on it too much.

"Hmm, well there's definitely damage of some sort here, it smells like fried transistors." He mused as he opened up the main casing.

"Lets do this logically, one side to the other." He began pulling circuits. "Lighting, check, obviously because it's not dark. Heating, check. Inbound communication system. Definitely not check. But we guessed that already. Gravity ring. Check. Again obviously, because I am not floating. Outbound comms, check." John gave a sigh of relief. "It sure is good to know that you can hear me down there, rather than me just rambling to myself."

He had a bad habit of talking to himself anyway. He knew it was partly because he was used to being alone up here, with his voice being the only one to fill the empty station. It could be embarrassing for him though as he seldom realised that he was doing it, and confusing for others when he started speaking mid thought with no context or explanation .

John moved onto the next bank of panels, and he noticed char marks on the outside of some. It seems the power overload had jumped some banks of circuits and grounded into others. He was getting close to some key systems and worry was beginning to form a knot in his stomach.

"Lets see, space elevator control" He gave a low whistle. "Not check. That is one nasty looking circuit board, put it on the list for a replacement please Brains. Central data core. Not check. Though this isn't as bad. The data – and EOS – will be OK but just not accessible right now. This is probably repairable, but I'm not sure I have the parts up here. Moving on, kitchen systems, all check. Next, CO2 scrubber." John felt the knot in his stomach change to a lead weight as he looked at the board in front of him: a mess of charred transistors and melted wire. "Not check."


	3. As Above Part 3

John didn't think, just stared at the now useless piece of electronics in front of him.

"Crap" he breathed softly. His head was still sore, his shoulder throbbing and his leg was cramped from the awkward position he had to be in to examine the systems, but he didn't notice any of that. His was entirely focused on the now-piece-of-junk in front of him.

"Crap" he said again.

In fact, thought wasn't needed – John had already leaped to the most obvious conclusion, all the pieces fitting together. He had always been good at intuitive but logical jumps, and he knew instantly what this meant. He now knew what sound he was missing from the ever-present background noise of the station. He reached back a few panels, and made a few adjustments to one. The gravity ring stopped turning and he began to float.

He knew the others were listening. He would have to say something. Maybe Brains had already worked it out and would do it for him. Maybe. He should probably say something. But how could he tell his brothers that he was going to die? He didn't want to say those words! At least he wouldn't be able to see the look on their faces, or hear the fear in their voices. He was going to die, and he was going to do it alone.

He began slowly, laying all the facts out, trying to catch a mistake if he could, suddenly hoping if he said it out loud he would be wrong.

"The CO2 scrubber panel is completely destroyed, nothing left of it. Which means in about… an hour there is going to be too much CO2 in here for a breathable atmosphere. I've turned the gravity off as that means movement will be easier, but that is probably only a few minutes extra. I have a couple of emergency tanks of oxygen, I figure that's another hour maybe. The space elevator control panel is also damaged, so even if the main computer was online – which it's not – that isn't going anywhere. The radiation outside won't dissipate to levels safe enough for others for at least 12 hours. And if Thunderbird 3 left Mars the instant that the system override was activated they are 14 hours away."

He couldn't say it, he couldn't tell his brothers they were going to have to listen to him die. With the CO2 scrubber offline each breath out was going to increase the amount of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, and there was no way for it to be recycled into oxygen. The equipment itself was one of the most sturdy and well protected on the station - quite rightly given it's importance. There were even two back ups. None of them would work, however, without this panel.

The conclusion was simple. He wasn't going to be able to get off the station for twelve hours, and he would only be breathing for two. He fought back tears and tried to steady himself - he didn't have air to waste after all.


	4. As Above Part 4

John knew that his life had always hung in the balance up here. He was in a hostile environment after all, the vacuum of space stretching around him into infinity. It was dangerous and his life balanced on a knife edge, but he had never expected to actually fall off that knife edge. Brains was one of the worlds best engineers, the technology they had at their disposal second to none. He wasn't bad at electrical engineering and mechanics himself, let alone coding – that was even without EOS to back him up. Thunderbird 5 was state of the art in terms of capability, communication and safety.

 

He had been up here watching meteor showers and solar flares without any thoughts about the risks. It's amazing what you can become used to really as in general he thought about his oxygen supply as little up here as he did when he was on the ground.

 

There were back up all over the station, but the only thing that couldn't have a reserve system was these panels. And the only way they could be damaged was via an emergency internal power vent. Which would only happen if he couldn't go outside when if he needed to. Now he thought of it the sequence of events stacked up perfectly: it seemed he was always heading to this point.

 

This point – stuffed in the skin of his station, fried circuits in front of him, shoulder broken and cut off from the rest of the world. He had never really let himself think of the possibility of dying in space, but on the occasional long nights when more morbid thoughts snuck in he didn't think it would be like this. More likely suddenly in an explosion or a meteor strike. Something dramatic and memorable that would make the news. Something quick. Not slowly, suffocating without even the comfort of hearing his brothers say their goodbyes. Not alone.

 

With a cry of anger John found himself launching the destroyed circuit board out his newly made access hatch.

 

It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair! He spent so much time up here, listening to others call for help, sending help, being the reassuring voice for those in need. He kept them calm, found out where it hurt, and gave them promises of rescue and safety. The others did the practical work, got the job done, but he was always the first point of contact. His was the voice of hope when someone in need had none of their own.

 

Where was that voice for him? Where was his rock, his lifeline? Who was going to reassure him, talk him through the fear and panic? Where was is voice of hope to cut though the despair of the realisation that there was no way out.

 

Nowhere. He was adrift and alone. That probably wasn't fair, as he worked hard to keep a connection to the planet below, to not become too introverted. And the others worked hard at it too – they never let him forget that he was just as much a part of the family as anyone else, and could always see when he was beginning to withdraw. But right now all that didn't matter. What matter was that though he knew his smoke signal had been sent no-one was going to be coming for him.

 

The anger was gone as suddenly as it arrived leaving John drained and he put his head in his hands, trying to calm himself as he felt his vision blur. From pain or emotion he wasn't sure which. Damn headache. Damn damn shoulder. He found his thoughts turning to his brothers. In truth they never felt far away from him, despite the physical distance. They had all been very close as children and that closeness had continued to the point it would be hard to fathom living apart from them even if they didn't work together.

 

Scott who always had it together for the others but wasn't always able to ask for himself. Virgil who was the one who made the most sense and wouldn't sugar coat a hard truth for you. Gordon who always had a lightness to his step like he was about to take off running at any moment. Alan who had so much enthusiasm for just about anything except chores. He felt such pride at calling them his brothers quite separate from the pride he felt in what they had achieved alongside each other. He hoped it wouldn't end here, that they wouldn't let another tragedy pull them apart. After all they had so much they still wanted to do.

 

Slowly John felt another emotion creep in. Stubbornness. He still had so much left he wanted to do. He had not finished reading his latest book. There were more stars he wanted to study. He hadn't taught Alan chess yet. He was not ready to die yet. He refused to give up on those things. He wouldn't give in on any other day, why today?

 

He was a Tracy. Tracy's didn't step back when confronted with the impossible, they stepped up. They altered reality to make it not just possible but inevitable. He was unable to see the change in his posture, the set of his jaw or the glint in his eye, but he could feel his change in perspective.

 

He was always calm under pressure, it was one of his best characteristics. Could he stay calm enough to think this through again, to get himself out of this mess? He didn't have Brains, or EOS, or the computer. He didn't have his brothers, he didn't have the resources of International Rescue. All he had was his own brain, the Tracy family determination, a broken shoulder and – he checked his watch – 1 hour 45 minutes. How's that for pressure John?


	5. As Above Part 5

First he had to decide what problem he was going to solve. Not dying was the obvious one, but something slightly less simplistic.

The way he saw it he had four options.

One – fix the CO2 scrubber. Remembering the state of the circuity – wherever it was now – that wasn't going to be able to do that. Particularly in the time he had. So not that.

Two – fix communications. Then he could hear his brothers again and maybe Brains had come up with something. Hmm maybe, but he would be relying on Brains to have a plan, and there to be time for that plan. As much as he wanted to hear a friendly voice, that was a lot of variables.

Three – get more air. Fine, but where from? Shelf that for now.

Four – get out of here. Again – putting that on the shelf.

Something else he needed to know- what did he have to work with? He had tools, and some basic spare parts. He could cannibalise the station as well of course but only if he had to. He didn't _want_ to tear up his station, but he would if he had to. John slowly dragged himself out of the innards of Five, and over to the spares storage. He opened it up and watched the equipment float out.

"Sorry about earlier guys. Must be the shock of the shoulder or something."

 _Yeah, they weren't going to buy that,_ he sighed. As much as the knowledge that his brothers were listening was comforting earlier, now he felt ashamed that they had heard his breakdown. What must they think of that: cool and calm John Tracy reduced to a yelling wreck. He was sure there would be a few jokes heading his way, and he would be glad to hear them if that was the price for living.

"I'm working the problem, I just need a few minutes to look at my options. Send a pigeon or something if you get any ideas."

John looked at the mix of circuits, batteries, wires, tubing and panels that now littered the room. _It was just a giant puzzle, and he had to find the answer_ he thought to himself. Except maybe this puzzle didn't have a solution.

"Enough of that now, work the problem. One – no, Two – maybe, Three – hmmmm no, Four - maybe" He was thinking of his list of solutions and realised that there was nothing here that was going to help with oxygen generation or carbon dioxide elimination. Fixing the communications would just make him feel better, and probably not help his chances of survival, so he reluctantly let that one go. That left him with one option. Perhaps it was the most obvious but it was soothing to get there via logic as well.

"Four it is. Get out of here. Now how do I do that?"


	6. As Above Part 6

John closed his eyes, trying to distance himself from his situation. _Don't think that this is happening to you. Don't think of what will happen to your family if you fail. This is just another situation, another rescue._

That helped a little. It gave him some perspective, some distance. He was used to working at a distance from everyone and everything, so that was a slither of normality that he could embrace. Now onto business. How would he try and get _someone else_ down from here. He'd tell them to get in the space elevator of course. But that wasn't going anywhere – he could recall perfectly the state of the relevant circuit board. The controls for the cable would be fried, so there was no way to lower it down. That could perhaps be overridden if the main computer was online – it would be an uncontrolled decent but a descent all the same – but the main computer systems would also not be online in time.

 _Hang on, uncontrolled decent_ John's eyes flew open and he looked again at the spares in front of him. He had the glimmerings of an idea. Not a good idea. Far from a good idea. Possibly the worst idea he has ever had. And he wouldn't be able to pull it off on his own.

 _Would it work though?_ John grabbed a couple of spare parts, nestled them carefully in his sling, picked up his tool kit and made his way to the space elevator. _And would it work in … one hour thirty minutes?_

Floating into the capsule John bought up the station schematics. Not literally of course, all holo-projection was off line, as was the giant data bank that held the information. He hadn't needed to refer to them in the flesh for a while now as he could see everything in his minds eye. He could imagine the turn of each conduit and the positioning of the wiring. He had spent enough time crawling through the walls of Thunderbird 5 to even know when things were somewhere they weren't meant to be. He didn't know how Brains would feel when he found out that his blueprints were no longer perfect. He liked perfection, did the engineer.

_Main controls are out, main power too. The winch won't be responding, not without a full reboot of the entire system and I don't have the parts to repair that. There are however secondary controls. Here._

John quickly opened a panel in front of him, looking through the wiring for the one he wanted.

"It should be fine, but let's test it just in case." John tested the cables and nearby circuitry. All green.

"Good news, that's the first good news in a while."

John reached for the batteries he had grabbed earlier and started work.


	7. As Above Part 7

"For fucks sake, why is this fucking thing not working?" John's angry outburst echoed through the station.

_It wasn't going to work. This wasn't going to work._

The plan was simple really, but it all hinged on him being able to get power to the secondary control panel. Without that he could do nothing. The power wasn't going to be able to come through the main system, but if he could get that power from somewhere else – these batteries for instance, maybe he could boot it up. He didn't need the whole station for this, just the space elevator.

But the batteries weren't directly compatible, having been designed for powering the gravity ring instead. A few minutes, a pair of pliers and some foil changed that.

Now he had a problem with the voltage – he had too much. He actually needed only a small amount of power to do this, as he wasn't planning on doing anything but making these systems _go._

If he ran too much power though it all he'd do is fry yet another circuit board, and he would be even greater shit. If that was possible.

The work had been slowed because he didn't have the exact tools he needed, but he made do. It had been further slowed by his shoulder. He tried not to move his arm too much which made things awkward. He was also hunched over to get access to the hardware he needed, and that was made it even more painful. He had blood on his hands from where he had touched the back of his head. Though he had managed to keep most of it off the instruments by wiping his hands on his legs, it was still a mess. Now the area around him was littered with wire and disassembled spare parts and he was no closer to safety.

 _Why was this all not compatible?_ He thought angrily. If Brains had just had a bit more forethought this would have all been completed and he would be on his way down by now. Hell with a bit more care this whole situation could have been avoided.

John immediately regretted his thoughts and was relieved that he hadn't voiced them out loud. He knew that the safety of the members of International Rescue was Brains top priority and something that he would never compromise. He recognised in himself that he was only looking for someone to blame because if someone was responsible for the problem they would also be responsible for the solution. That just wasn't how life worked unfortunately.

"Don't blame yourself, this isn't anybodies fault" he said softly. No matter how this turned out there were some people on Tracy Island who would have to come to know the truth of those words. They were all very good at easing other's burdens by taking them on themselves, to their own detriment.

John took a deep breath and sighed. His headache was coming back with a vengeance and he was starting to get double vision: he knew that was too good to last. He took another breath. No it just wasn't the blow to the head, the air had changed – it was thicker and stuffier. Time for a time check – 1 hour 10 minutes. _Damn that had gone fast._ He needed to get an oxygen tank while he could still think clearly.

He floated slowly to the oxygen storage, reluctant to actually start to use one. It was because it was a solid representation of his time running out, and he felt it like a noose tightening around his neck. Regardless it needed to be done, so he fixed the tank to his helmet and put it on.

"I'm now using the first oxygen tank. One hour."

He needed to think, he just couldn't _think._ The only thing he could now hear was the sound of his own breathing and his own heartbeat. And that was deafening.

He'd never liked working in the quiet. The others didn't really understand. They thought he needed peace to concentrate but he always worked best with some background noise. He was a product of his environment and that environment was growing up with four energetic and noisy brothers. There had barely been a silent moment in the house when they were kids due to games or arguments in equal measure. Though they each tried to keep it down when someone was doing schoolwork peace was something that none of them got used to.

The first two weeks that he had been in college were awful – everyone was so studious and everything was too quiet, he had got nothing done. Then he hit upon perfection – music. Nothing modern, all classic, sometimes even classical. There was a tune for every mood and every thought. Songs that evoked memories, that soothed broken hearts. Songs that let his mind float freely for him to be the best that he could be. Oh, his brothers had relentlessly made fun of him when they found out that he needed music, played very very loudly, to do his best work. They had messed with his playlists, changing the order of everything. Gordon even replaced his entire collection on one occasion.

But they had also added in their own choices, found things he thought he might like. And that had really touched him – that the embraced something that they didn't really understand. And they made it better, because his collection now contained songs that he felt epitomised his family and bought him comfort when they were far away or in danger.

He wished he could play some music now, but with the main data core off line there was no chance of that, so he started humming one of his favourites. It was quite fitting as it always evoked a feeling of determination: something that he could use the boost from right now. It fit the spirit of his family so was often on his playlist. He would have sung it but he couldn't spare the oxygen. Anyway, he didn't want to hear his own voice echoing around his suit. And he sure didn't want those down below subjected to his voice. He realised just how much like a stepped on frog he sounded the day that he had been travelling home from college. He'd been working on an essay on the train and the looks that some of the other passengers had given him while he was singing away while listening to….

Listening to….

 _Where was it?_ Was it here? He was sure he bought it up with him. It had been a present from his mother, so he took it with him where ever he went. Brains had upgraded it a couple of years ago. He didn't use it much any more, but it was _here_ somewhere he knew it. He moved as quickly as possible back through the station, uncaring of the knocks he gave his shoulder. Once in his room he tore open one of the cupboards, searching desperately. Finally, finally his hand landed on what he was looking for. His portable music player.

He caught his reflection in the mirror by his bed. His suit was blood smeared and charred – he thought he would have either an impressive bruise or a mild burn in the centre of his chest where the discharge had hit - and his face was pale, sweaty and fearful.

He turned it on, could he bear to look at it? He had to, he had to see what percentage it had. 75%? Even though he hadn't charged it for months at least. _That….. that might be enough. Brains, thank you for the battery upgrade._

_This might work, this might actually work._

Back in the elevator capsule he got to work – swiftly uncasing his beloved music player and removing the battery. He made the needed modifications and inserted it into his makeshift circuit. His movements were swift but still careful as couldn't afford to mess this up. This battery was of a much lower voltage – it hadn't needed to be powerful after all. If he was lucky, if he was very very lucky, it would be in the right range to boot the board, but not enough to overload it.

"Moment of truth, here goes."

He finalised the connection and …. It hummed, it beeped and it lit up green.

"Yes! Arghhh! Fuck yeah" He punched the air in relief and excitement, momentarily forgetting his injury. That came back to bite him as he moved and the pain was a white hot lance across his front and back. That couldn't stop the wave of elation that he felt though.

_It would work!_

The board beeped again. It wasn't meant to do that. Hang on, that wasn't the board. That was the oxygen warning alarm on his tank. Time to change it which meant he had only 30 minutes left. Time sure does fly when you are not having fun. Would it be enough? It had to be, he was so close.

"I've just got change this, and then Virgil, Gordon, I need you to listen very carefuly, as I'm going to need your help."


	8. As Above Part 8

John felt relief as oxygen rich air rushed into his suit once again, and for the last time, one way or another.

"So, here is the most hair-brained scheme you will ever hear from John Tracy. I'm running out of oxygen and can't wait to be picked up, so I'm coming down. Simple right? I'm not going to be able to lower this thing like normal as the main control circuit is fried which controls both the winch and provides power to the capsule. But I've rigged power directly to the secondary systems. In a few moments I am going to manually release the capsule from the cable. Then I will use the adjustment thrusters to move out of orbit and back through the atmosphere. "

As he had been speaking he had been throwing some of the pieces of Thunderbird 5 back out of the capsule. _Don't want any of these bashing me on the head on the way down._

"Now I know Brains is likely to have some objections at this point. I know the capsule wasn't designed for a terminal velocity, mostly uncontrolled descent. But it's strong enough to withstand most things space can throw at it. I know that the thrusters are only designed to make small adjustments to ensure a proper latch when docking and aren't going to be powerful enough to slow me down, but they might give some manoeuvrability. I know that I won't have any navigation as such, so I'm going to practically flying blind. But this is what I've got guys. That and less than 30 minutes of air."

"So, when I get too far away from Thunderbird 5 I will probably get disconnected from you, but you should be able to track my position. And assuming I don't burn up in the atmosphere I hope to land somewhere in the sea near Tracy Island."

John was trying not to think about the crater he would make if he hit land and instead concentrated on outlining his plan. He tried to sound confident now he was dishing out hope again, but there were so many things that could go wrong he didn't know if he managed it.

"And at that point I would be very grateful, if it's not too much trouble, if you have nothing else on, if you could come and pick me up. I don't have my swimming trunks with me."

John gave a last glance into Thunderbird 5 before he closed the hatch. His beloved station was broken and burned in places: pieces floating wherever he had let them. Overall there had been little damage though, and the station was probably doing better than him. It wouldn't take long for Brains to make the necessary repairs.

 _I'll be back soon EOS._ He promised, though he couldn't say the words out loud, didn't want his brothers to remember him as a liar if this all went wrong.

Working the manual cable release was not easy with one arm, being a sort of ratchet mechanism at the top of the capsule and the effort took up more oxygen than he liked, but at last he heard the quiet _thunk_ that marked the successful separation.

He strapped himself into the chair, made sure he had everything he needed close to hand and then steadied himself.

 _So this is it. This is where we find out if you are just that smart or just that dumb John Tracy._ Should he be saying good bye? He didn't want to say goodbye, didn't want to his brothers to think that there was the slightest possibility that this wasn't going to work. In fact there was a very high chance that this wasn't going to work. But he still didn't want to say goodbye. The others never said good bye when they were running into a burning building, a collapsed mine, a flash flood.

Instead he said what they said to him. Oh it was never in those exact words, but the intent was there. They all knew what they meant when they ran headlong into danger and he was their eye in the sky and voice in their ear.

"Watch my back International Rescue. 5 … 4…. 3…. 2…. 1…. Thunderbird 5 is go."


	9. As Above Part 9

John was pinwheeling through the sky with no control. At least that's what it felt like. It had been easy enough to make sure that the capsule was reclaimed by Earth's gravity, but then it had got hard. Really hard.

John had jury rigged some form of controls for the stabilising thrusters, but it was not much, just on and off. He had a couple of exterior cameras and the modules gyroscope, but that was all in the way of navigation. He was having to make guesses about his rate of decent and probable trajectory and make timely adjustments to try and stabilise his fall without going too far from his target area. The forces he was experiencing were alternating from throwing him around and pushing him back into the seat, and that meant that his whole left upper side was on fire as the pain spread from his shoulder. He hoped he wasn't doing too much damage but that was just one more thing he had no control over. He was also trying to gauge how much power was left in the batteries, and do the calculations to see if he could spare any to finally boot up the secondary comms board that was on the module – it didn't have much range so would have been useless earlier, but might be enough now he was in the upper atmosphere. The motion was starting to make him feel sick on top of everything else. Right now he didn't care if he was still falling, he just wanted to stop spinning.

And now there was another problem – his oxygen tank was beeping again. _Shit, that had been a lot less than 30 minutes!_ Of course 30 minutes was based under normal usage, and it's hard to keep respiration to a slow and steady rate when you are in a blind free fall in a tin can. If he didn't do something quickly he would be suffocating here and now. So he did the only thing he could think of and tore off his helmet.

And he could breathe! Of course the air was thin and smelt weird but there seems to be plenty of it. The sense of relief he felt as he took breathes in Earth's atmosphere was immense.

He decided now was the time to boot up that little comms board, and he started he broadcast.

"This is ummmm….. well _part_ of Thunderbird 5 – I don't know if you'll be able to hear me. I have good news: I didn't burn up in the atmosphere. I have bad news: my tank is out of oxygen. I have more good news: there has been some sort of damage to the capsule which is no longer sealed against the vacuum of space, so I have atmosphere in here. I have more bad news: there has been some sort of damage to the capsule which it is no longer sealed against the vacuum of space, so there will soon be water in here. Does anyone copy?"

There was just static on the line. _Maybe it needs just a bit more power? Or maybe they are too far away. Maybe they don't even know that I am in trouble._

Well that was a new and depressing thought. So far he hadn't even contemplated that his brothers weren't listening and that they wouldn't be there when he needed them. To have that thought now was damn poor timing. They had never let him down before and he had no reason to think that they would start now.

So he held on for as long as could, head full of thoughts of home until the pain and the pressure was too much and he passed out.


	10. As Above Part 10

He awoke to water dripping on his face. Not dripping. Trickling. Pouring really. If this was another infamous Tracy practical joke someone was really going to get it.

He opened his eyes and gave a groan as reality slammed back into him: the descent, the G-forces, his shoulder, lack of oxygen, his unanswered transmission – all hit him at the same time. The pain was immense, in all forms. Physical pain from a broken bone, from his body being tossed two-ways from Sunday, the headache, his chest. But also the emotional pain he had been trying to keep on top of – the fear of being lost and abandoned while suffocating in space.

At least that's one problem he no longer had, instead replaced with something different. Apparently he had arrived on the planet, the capsule hadn't disintegrated as it passed through the atmosphere, and he was still alive. He didn't remember the impact which was probably a good thing.

But now it appeared that the elevator was completing submerged as all he could see was darkness out of the two small windows. Judging by the movement it was still sinking, and it was filling with water.

 _Time to get out of here_ he thought as he unclipped his safety restraint.

He tried the automatic release on the display in front of him. All he got was a shower of sparks and the lights went off.

 _Crap_ but actually what he thought might happen – he had after all stripped a lot of wiring and exposed the circuitry to get this thing to move in the first place- he hadn't the time to reseal it all.

Once again it would be a ratchet mechanism that opened the door – he felt around in the dark until he found the right cover, opened it, and reached for the handle. Which didn't budge.

"Come. On. I. Am. Not. In. The. Mood." Each word was punctuated by a sharp pull on the handle, trying to get it to move. He changed position slightly trying to get his full weight behind it. It wasn't budging. And now the water that was pouring from several breaches in the capsules thick skin had reached his knees.

 _Keep calm John, this is just another problem for you to work._ What do you do? Plug the gaps. There was nothing to plug them with, and anyway it looked like the leaks were along the seems so a plug in once place would just move the leak elsewhere.

Next solution. _Get out._ Well he was trying that. Cursing his broken shoulder he went back to one handedly trying to get the door open while furiously thinking. The descent must have broken something or warped the mechanism. The water was at his waist. Could he cut his way out? No, the best he had was a pair of pliers. The water was at his chest. Could he break his way out? Through the toughened and reinforced glass? Or the elevator skin? When he couldn't even move a fucking handle. No way. Could he….. Could he… He was out of ideas and had to release the handle as the water came up to his chin.

He pushed himself off the floor to try and float above the surface of the rapidly rising water, gasping as the cold surrounded him.

He was out of ideas. Out of resources. And out of time. His thoughts were becoming jumbled and frantic. His heart was racing and he felt on the verge of a panic attack. He had managed to survive so far, he just needed help with this last little bit. He needed his brothers to be here right now, needing their help desperately and that traitorous thought raised it's head again. _What if they weren't coming._

He was now right at the top of the module, holding on to some cabling he'd pulled out earlier. _So this is how I die. I drown. I drown for fucks sake_. He didn't know why that made him ridiculously angry. _I'm going to drown down here in the dark. Alone._ Somehow it was an affront to everything he thought he would achieve in his life. He wanted to be remembered as someone who explored the sky, not made stupid decisions and got himself drowned!

He drew a last deep breathe from the last of the air space and then he was completely submerged. Stupid decisions, he had made lots of stupid decisions. He didn't know what the stupid ones were precisely, but he must have gone wrong somewhere or he wouldn't be in this situation right now.

 _I'm sorry guys, I'm sorry I wasn't as smart as you needed me to be._ His lungs were burning and he could no longer stop his instinct to take a breathe. He felt the water rush down his throat, into his lungs. He felt his body spasm as he struggled to live but was thwarted by the surrounding salt water. He had just one more emotion. Regret. And one last thought. _I'm sorry I let you all down._


	11. So Below Part 1

The command console on Tracy Island flooded into life.

"Automatic override initiated. All communications successfully diverted."

"What? Thunderbird 5 do you read me, is there any trouble up there?" Gordon had been lazing on the couch drinking his first coffee of the day and had spilt most of it over himself at the sudden alarms. The emergency protocol was designed to only activate when Thunderbird 5 was no longer capable of functioning, but there had been no signs of distress from their space station.

There was no answer. "Virgil, Brains get in here!" They were the only other two on the island – Scott had accompanied Alan on an assistance mission to one of the Mars stations, and Kayo was out on an investigation. Gordon kept trying to hail John as Virgil and Brains joined him.

"Oh my!" said Brains, seeing the emergency override in place "Have you heard from John?"

"No nothing"

Then: "This is Thunderbird 5 to Tracy Island, come in please."

"We hear you John, jeesh, what's going on upstairs? You gave us a bit of a scare." Gordon replied.

"This is Thunderbird 5, do you copy?"

"Yes, we hear you John, what is your status." Gordon's relief at hearing his brothers voice was short lived as the astronaut came back over the comms.

"This is Thunderbird 5: status update." John sounded like he was reading – or writing a report. All formality and no personality. John was usually only like that when the situation was serious.

"Approximately …20 minutes ago the convoy of reclaimed nuclear space mines on the way back to Earth for decommissioning was passing within 20 kilometers of Thunderbird 5." John had been looking forward to seeing that flotilla. Gordon couldn't understand the appeal himself but then John had always found weird stuff interesting.

"I don't know what happened – some kind of incident anyway and one went off, starting a chain reaction which produced a pretty impressive firework right outside my window. This area of space is currently saturated with high density radiation. Luckily it's short lived, but only International Rescue vehicles will be safe to travel through it for the next 12 hours or so. Also luckily it will dissipate after that and it shouldn't reach the Earth's atmosphere so don't worry about any fall out."

"Is he right Brains? Radiation?"

"It appears so" Brains replied after a brief look at the data: part of the emergency protocol was to send the last hour of system scans and diagnostics directly to one of Brains' displays.

"However the debris from the mines did impact on the hull here, and caused a short in the power system, so it needed venting. Usually of course that would be done from outside, but even my space suit won't hold up to that radiation right now, so I did it internally. I sent EOS into the central data core in case of static discharge, so she should be ok there for the moment. Then I manually vented. There may have been a bit of a power surge."

Though of course they were all familiar with each others machines Gordon was having a bit of trouble keeping up – John always made things sound so obvious even when they weren't. Not that he was condescending - he just sometimes forgot he was an expert in some areas that others weren't.

"It would have been a bit more than a minor power surge," said Brains, "quite dangerous actually."

"OK, maybe a large power surge. I have a few more bruises than I did this morning, a cracking headache, and my shoulder needs to be looked at but in good news the station is still in one piece. "

It was then that Gordon noticed the edge of pain to John's voice – he was usually good at hiding that sort of thing, but he couldn't put one past his brothers. Gordon glanced at Virgil and saw the concern on his face – he had noticed it too.

"There appears to have been some damage though as I can see the emergency override has been activated and all communications should now being directly received by Tracy Island. From what I can see I think that my outbound comms still work so you should be able to hear me, but I've got errors on the inbound so I can't hear you. And there's a lot more I need to check out."


	12. So Below Part 2

The comms line went quiet and Gordon stood silent for a moment in a state of shock. Though it wasn't the first time that John has had to make emergency repairs to Thunderbird 5, his communications had never been out before. Gordon wandered what it would be like to be alone in the depths of space with just your own thoughts for company, and shuddered. But then again his thoughts were of much lower quality than John's, so maybe that was ok.

"What's the damage, Brains? Anything serious, apart from comms I mean." Virgil asked their resident engineer.

"I really can't say I'm afraid Virgil. Although the external communications are coming through to us here, so we will be able to pick up any distress calls, I'm getting no readings at all from the station itself. The full system diagnostics must be off line so John will have to work with the back ups."

"Then what do we do? Just wait? Should we call Alan and Scott?" Gordon was torn between sparing those two worry, and the need to share his own.

"I think we should – I know I would want to know." Virgil was right, of course, and Gordon was glad he was there to balance out his impulsivity.

They didn't have time to reach out to Thunderbird 3 before John was speaking again however.

"OK guys, we are going for a little explore. I think system diagnostics is just one thing that has been knocked off line by that surge, so I am going to inspect the damage. And you are coming with me."

"Good," said Brains, "That's a good plan. Most of the ships systems have some sort of relay in that area – I avoided it where possible but it's an essential element of the engineering I'm afraid – and that will be where any damage has been done."

"We call them while John is doing that" Gordon made the decision. "This is Tracy Island to Thunderbird 3 come in please".

"This is Thunderbird 3, what's up Gordon?" Alan's response was slightly delayed due to the distance involved, and he was obviously surprised to hear directly from base.

"There's been a bit of a situation on Thunderbird 5 and John doesn't have inbound communications right now. He does have outbound so he is talking to us, but we don't know much more than that – he's checking systems now."

Alan frowned "Thanks for letting us know, do you want us to come back?"

Gordon looked at Brains and Virgil who both shrugged "We don't really have any info at the moment, so stand by."

"FAB. I'll go tell Scott" Gordon grinned at his littlest brothers discomfort at the thought of giving the eldest bad news – he didn't always take it well.

"I've patched Thunderbird 3 into our comms, so they will be able to hear John too." Typical Brains, on the ball as always and Alan gave a nod of thanks as he came back to the cockpit with Scott in tow.

"Hmm, well there's definitely damage of some sort here, it smells like fried transistors." John was back. Brains started taking notes as John went through the litany of damaged and undamaged systems.

"Lets do this logically, one side to the other. Lighting, check, obviously because it is not dark. Heating, check. Inbound communication system. Definitely not check. But we guessed that already. Gravity ring. Check. Again obviously because I am not floating." Despite his concern Gordon found himself smiling at John's list, though he knew gravity and lights are still working it didn't stop him doing the check. Typical John: he was always so thorough.

"Outbound comms, check. It sure is good to know that you can hear me down there, rather than me just rambling to myself."

"We can hear you John" Virgil whispered. Gordon hated doing system checks: he found them boring and complicated in equal measure but he found that listening to someone else do them was even worse. He felt his anxiety levels rise at each system John looked at.

"Let's see, space elevator control" A whistle. "Not check. That is one nasty looking circuit board, put it on the list for a replacement please Brains. Central data core. Not check. Though this isn't as bad. The data – and EOS – will be OK but just not accessible right now. This is probably repairable, but I'm not sure I have the parts up here. Moving on, kitchen systems, all check. Next, CO2 scrubber." A slight pause "Not check."


	13. So Below Part 3

Besides him Brain stopped writing and stiffened.

"The CO2 scrubber? No!" Brains sounded shocked.

"Crap" That was from John, barely heard and then silence before they heard slightly louder. "Crap."

John was swearing – something he only did when he was most stressed – and Brains was frowning. Gordon felt he had missed something, something terrible judging by the look that had crossed Brain's face.

"I know that's not good, but he'll be ok, right Brains?" Gordon struggled to catch up to whatever John and Brains were thinking. Both Earth-bound brothers looked to the engineer for reassurance.

"I….. I…. " Brains started, but John's voice had came back. He spoke slowly and calmly though he sounded flat and scared, a combination that Gordon had never heard before.

"The CO2 scrubber panel is completely destroyed, nothing left of it. Which means in about… an hour there is going to be too much CO2 in here for a breathable atmosphere. I've turned the gravity off as that means movement will be easier, but that is probably only a few minutes extra. I have a couple of emergency tanks of oxygen, I figure that's another hour maybe. The space elevator control panel is also damaged, so even if the main computer was online – which it's not – that isn't going anywhere. The radiation outside won't dissipate to levels safe enough for others for at least 12 hours. And if Thunderbird 3 left Mars the instant that the system override was activated they are 14 hours away."

For a second Gordon didn't put it together. It was like he was waiting for John to finish, to give that one more piece of information that was going to make all of this make sense like he always did. But he didn't, he just stopped, and they heard John taking ragged breathes. He looked over at Virgil and knew that his own face must be just as pale. Was this real? Was this really happening? Half an hour ago Gordon had been deciding what sort of coffee he wanted. Now he had just heard their brother tell them that he was trapped on the space station for at least 12 hours with only 2 hours worth of air. He had heard his brother give his own death sentence.


	14. So Below Part 4

"No, you're wrong, you got it wrong John" Gordon yelled. It was irrational, he knew it was irrational, John couldn't hear them after all. A corner of his mind knew that this was not going to do anyone any good, but that was submerged beneath the sheer rage that consumed the rest of him. He couldn't take loosing another family member, so in shock his emotions went into overdrive.

"You think you are so smart – well figure your way out of this one. Come on! Tell us the solution like you always do!"

"Gordon, stop shouting."

"No Virgil, I will not stop shouting, not until he is down here, sitting beside me, so I don't have to shout."

"Gordon, please" It wasn't stern words that got through to Gordon, but Virgil's soft heartbroken plea, and the empty look on his face. Virgil was always so strong and confident so to see him looking lost hammered home the reality of John's situation.

Gordon suddenly felt himself welling up. "I'm sorry Virgil, I just…. I just can't…. I…."

"I know, I know" Said Virgil grabbing him into a solid hug.

He didn't know how long they stood there arms round each other. He could hear Virgil's breathing, harsh and short just like the one they heard over the comm unit. Just like his own he was sure. _Oh John._

"Alan, Scott, come home" Virgil was taking charge down here and for that Gordon was grateful.

"We launch in 90 seconds." Alan sounded petrified and Scott hadn't said a word yet. "We'll be there in 10 hours."

 _Huh, so Alan thinks he can shave four hours off the flight home? Impressive_. Still eight hours too long though.

There was a yell and a crash from John.

Gordon had never felt this helpless before. They were International Rescue, helping people is what they did. But what good was any of it if they couldn't help the person who needed them the most? Gordon has also never been this afraid for a member of the family when he was too far away to help.

"What can we do Brains? We have to do something – we have to go get him, surely there is some vehicle somewhere in the world that can go up there Something experimental maybe? We'll pilot it. No-one else has to take a risk on the radiation." Gordon was desperate now.

"I don't know, I don't think… I'll make some calls." Gordon didn't know what he looked like right now, but it can't have been good if it sent Brains running like that. He would apologise later.


	15. So Below Part 5

The two brothers were now sat next to each other on the couch, where they could see both a holographic reproduction of Thunderbird 5 as well as John's portrait. Maybe this was all a joke one of the others was playing. No, they wouldn't joke about something like this. Another hope dashed but Gordon was still struggling to accept this new reality.

He had never thought of John being in danger before – her was always the safe one. He was also the constant. The steady heartbeat of International Rescue only ever a moment away with reassurance, with data, with a plan and the thought of not having that...

Gordon couldn't finish his thought.

"Sorry about earlier guys. Must be the shock of the shoulder or something."

Virgil's head raised from where he had been holding it in his hands, and Gordons gaze refocused – he hadn't realised he had been staring.

"I'm working the problem, I just need a few minutes to look at my options. Send a pigeon or something if you get any ideas."

John was…. Well he sounded exactly like John normally did when International Rescue were in the middle of a situation. Calm, professional. But with an edge of humour: trying to keep things light to stave off the weight of the risks they were taking. How was that possible? How could John be in a life or death situation but sound as if he was just calling to chat about the weather? If that were Gordon he would be a crumbling wreck right now. But John sounded business as usual.

"He's not giving up" Gordon whispered to himself, feeling hope and pride kindle within him. The fear wasn't gone of course, but it was nice to feel something else as well.

"No he's not. He's a Tracy. We just don't understand how to do that." Virgil agreed, satisfaction in his voice.

"Enough of that now, work the problem. One – no, Two – maybe, Three – hmmmm no, Four – maybe"

"I think he's talking to himself again. He always does that. Drives me made because I stop listening to him and then he gets annoyed when I'm not listening when he _is_ talking to me" Gordon managed a wry smile and Virgil nodded. "It's one of his most annoying habits."

"He never admits that he does it though." Scott pointed out.

"An even more annoying habit." Gordon agreed. But they all had their foibles so he was largely forgiven for it.

"Four it is. Get out of here. Now how do I do that?"

"Does he never speak in full sentences? A little context here would be great you know?" Gordon was getting exasperated now, and there was a knot of tension across his shoulders.

Whatever was going on up there it seemed like John was coming up with a plan. He wasn't explaining it very well – or at all really - but there was determination back in his voice. He sounded more like the John Gordon put his faith in every time they went out on a rescue.

John wasn't giving up then neither was he. If there was any craft in the world, any way, no matter how experimental, how risky, he didn't care. He'd pilot it himself and go and bring his brother home.


	16. So Below Part 6

"It should be fine, but let's test it just in case."

"Any idea what he's doing Brains?"

"Not a clue. I've thought of 23 different scenarios, but I have no idea which one - if any – he is pursuing. And I don't know if any of them would be successful. I just don't have the data." Brains sounded so frustrated at a problem he couldn't solve.

Gordon has a new perspective. Normally it was Gordon or the others giving status updates and John listening – was it always like this for him? Did Gordon talk enough? Well the others might think so, but now he was starting to wonder. How many times had he left John in the dark, as he made a decision. How many times had John had to imagine what his brothers were doing when a few simple words would have made things certain. How many time had John felt this stomach clenching anxiety as he waited for someone to explain just _what the hell was going on_. Well that was not going to be happening again, not on his watch. Next time Gordon was going to be relaying so much information John would even know the colour of his socks.

"Good news, that's the first good news in a while."

"What the hell is good news!" Gordon was surprised that it wasn't him that had given the shout echoing his thoughts. Instead the situation was clearly getting to Virgil as well as he now displayed none of his usual stoicism.

"He's not too good on this communication thing is he. I never realised that before" Alan mused softly.

"I think he needs some extra training after this" Scott sounded serious about that and right now Gordon was happy to back him up.


	17. So Below Part 7

"For fucks sake, why is this fucking thing not working?"

Gordon didn't stop pacing at John's exclamation. He just kept walking. He didn't know how long he had been pacing for, but he was filled with a restless energy. Ten paces to the end of the couch, turn, ten paces to the other end, turn, ten, turn, ten, turn, ten. He worried it was winding up the others but Brains looked zoned out, Virgil had his own leg shaking thing going on, and he was probably out of view of the projection to Thunderbird 3.

John's muttering had become increasingly sweary, over the last few minutes and that was increasing the tension in all of them. Whatever he was doing – he still hadn't explained it - wasn't going well and now Gordon thought he was going to be sick if he stopped moving. Gordon had been trying to work out what was going on by the other noises from Thunderbird 5, but bar what was obviously John doing _something_ technical all he could hear was the occasional catch in breathing that reminded them all that John had some sort of injury as well.

"Don't blame yourself, this isn't any bodies fault." Gordon could barely believe it – John was actually trying to make _them_ feel better. Typical John, always thinking of others. But he really shouldn't be thinking of others right now though, he needed to concentrate and save all his thoughts for getting himself out of this! They'd all feel better once he had completed whatever technological miracle he was attempting.

"Any luck on those calls you made Brains?" Gordon had forgotten about that so it was lucky Scott was on the ball.

"I'm afraid not, and I've called in every favour I can think of." _Damn._

"I'm now using the first oxygen tank. One hour." Gordon's pacing sped up. One hour. Just one hour. One hour. Gordon's thoughts were as circular as his route, but he couldn't find a way to break the pattern.

Wait, was that... humming?

"What is he doing now? And Gordon knock it off with that back and forth would you." Ah, so Scott _could_ see him.

"That's what he calls his thinking music." Gordon said. "I called up to 5 last week and I must have interrupted some deep, deep thought because it was so loud that I almost split an ear drum. I honestly don't know how he does it."

"Probably to drown out the noise you lot make" Scott scoffed.

"Come on now Scott, we weren't that bad. A little ….. rambunctious ….. maybe, but hardly ear-protector worthy." Alan defended them all. Typical Alan, ready to stand up against an unjust accusation.

"It's a shame he doesn't sing more – he's got a half decent voice when he's not being self conscious and weird about it." Typical Virgil to bring that up. But he wasn't wrong – John had shown he had a lovely smooth singing voice on the rare occasions anyone actually caught him at it.

"Moment of truth, here goes."

They all went silent, waiting for….. whatever was going on.

"Yes! Arghhh! Fuck yeah"

John's shout rang through the room and made Gordon jump at it's intensity. He sounded elated, relieved and in pain.

"What did he do? Any changes on the readouts Brains?"

"No I'm afraid not, whatever he did it wasn't to fix main systems diagnostics."

There was another sound, one that Gordon, Alan and John had been trained to listen out for, but dreaded to hear. It was the sound of an oxygen tank on it's last five percent.

"I've just got change this, and then Virgil, Gordon, I need you to listen very carefully, as I'm going to need your help."


	18. So Below Part 8

"So, here is the most hair-brained scheme you will ever hear from John Tracy. I'm running out of oxygen and can't wait to be picked up, so I'm coming down. Simple right? I'm not going to be able to lower this thing like normal as the main control circuit is fried which controls both the winch and provides power to the capsule. But I've rigged power directly to the secondary systems. In a few moments I am going to manually release the capsule from the cable. Then I will use the adjustment thrusters to move out of orbit and back through the atmosphere. "

"Will that work Brains?" Gordon whispered as John – at long last - revealed his plan.

"Well, I..."

"Now I know Brains is likely to have some objections at this point. I know the capsule wasn't designed for a terminal velocity, mostly uncontrolled descent. But it's strong enough to withstand most things space can throw at it. I know that the thrusters are only designed to make small adjustments to ensure a proper latch when docking and aren't going to be powerful enough to slow me down, but they might give some maneuverability. I know that I won't have any navigation as such, so I'm going to practically flying blind. But this is what I've got guys. That and less than 30 minutes of air."

"Honestly I have no idea. I never even thought... It's certainly not something I'd recommend - it's just too risky. "

But Gordon knew that risk was all John had right now.

"And at that point I would be very grateful, if it's not too much trouble, if you have nothing else on, if you could come and pick me up. I don't have my swimming trunks with me."

Gordon looked to his brother and could see from his body language that he was just as pleased to at last be able to do something.

"Do you have anything in your diary Virgil?"

"Well, I was going to paint Thunderbird 2 a very slightly different shade of green this afternoon, but I suppose I can do that tomorrow."

"Watch my back International Rescue. 5 … 4…. 3…. 2…. 1…. Thunderbird 5 is go."

"Then lets go get him."


	19. So Below Part 9

Gordon felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as he made his way to the launch bay. This was his second favourite part of a rescue. The first was of course a safe arrival home after a successful mission, but this was a close second. These moments were ripe with possibilities. While John gave a full briefing he would be evaluating and considering his options. There would be discussion flying back and forth to solve the problem and data streaming into their machines. These first moments of movement were great because Gordon was always so full of hope and confidence – after all nothing could have gone wrong yet if they hadn't even left. Usually by the time they had launched a plan had coalesced out of the cloud of possibilities and the various members of International Rescue became a single tool with a single purpose. They moved like cogs in a machine and Gordon found huge satisfaction in playing his part.

Of course there was no briefing from John this time. No hurried but thorough research pack being delivered to their devices. The plan was simple: _find John._

"Are you tracking him yet Brains?" Gordon could practically feel the stress in Scott's voice: he and Alan would of course still be bystanders, their tension hardly eased by the recent developments.

"I think so. I will be more confident in a few minutes when – what I think is John – has cleared the upper atmosphere."

"Send them to me anyway, you can update when we are in the air. Loading module 4, you in yet Gordon?"

"Way ahead of you Virgil, I'm starting checks now."

"Then eta to intercept…. 4 minutes."

Those four minutes stretched out into years for Gordon, riding in Thunderbird 4 in the belly of Thunderbird 2. He could tell from the engine noise that Virgil was pushing the big machine to it's limits, but he still wished for more speed. Gordon and Virgil usually indulged in some banter at this point in the mission as there was usually some time before there were able to get to work. Not this time – this mission was too close to home. Emotionally and physically.

"….5 …... good news… atmosphere…...longer sealed against …..in here. Does anyone copy?"

"John! John? Say again. We did not copy." Virgil's voice was urgent over the comm.

"That was him though right?"

"Yep that was him Alan, and he managed some sort of comms. Has that helped with the tracking Brains?"

"Affirmative. Updating you now."

All the brothers could see the telemetry that Brains was providing Virgil. Gordon felt a lump in his throat as he studied it. It was going fast, too fast, and spinning out of control.

"Gordon" Virgil's voice was now grim as they considered the consequences of being trapped in that falling, flailing fraction of Thunderbird 5. "Be ready."


	20. So Below Part 10

"Are we there yet Virgil? Can't you make this thing go any faster? Are you _slowing down_?"

"Calm down Gordon, we will be there in 30 seconds, and I have to slow down else we'll overshoot."

"Great, then system check complete, docking clamp released. We are go for module deployment."

"No we are not go! I haven't even stopped yet."

"And yet here I am, ready and waiting for you dear brother. Get me down there."

"Have you checked radar? Or you keeping an eye on the surface as well? What if he is no longer in there?"

"In the nicest possible way back off with the 'help' Scott."

"Sorry, sorry. You know I interfere when I'm stressed"

"Yes we all know that"

"Thanks Alan"

"We're now in position."

"Deploying module..."

"Thunderbird 4 is in the water."

The previous radio silence had lifted in the last minute of the journey. Instead the communication had been fast and maybe just a bit frantic. Waiting was always difficult for Gordon: he was a man of action and of high energy. He always liked to moving and doing much more than watching and waiting. So it was with more than a little relief that Gordon guided his yellow sub into the depths, locking on to the faint signal underneath the ocean's surface that was his brothers space-life raft.

"Do you have a visual?"

"No, not yet, wait yes I do! Moving in."

The outline of the dark capsule began to form and his lights hit it he could see that it was miraculously in one piece, but dented and tarnished. _John is going to be really annoyed at himself for doing that_. They all liked their machines to be perfect.

"Can you see him?"

"No, I'm going out, hang on."

He hurriedly put on his equipment – rebreather, spare rebreather, cutting tools, flotation device, a few other useful things - and left the sub. No more waiting or worrying, now was the time for action and this was his world.

"It will be weakest at the seams. If you need to, cut there."

"Thanks Brains."

Gordon reached the elevator, now resting eerily on the sea floor. He peered into one of the viewing windows and it felt as if his heart stopped, for there was John. Floating. Still. Lifeless.

 _John._ Gordon brought up his cutter and started slicing through the thick walls of the pod.

"Gordon, what's going on!"

"I see him, I'm cutting my way in."

"Is he ok? Gordon. Damn it Gordon talk to me!" Gordon could hear Scott's blood pressure rising, but he hardly spared a thought for that, giving his work his full concentration.

"I don't know. I can't tell." Gordon lied as he peeled back the skin of the capsule and reached inside for his lost brother. He had seen plenty of people drowning and knew the signs. He knew there was no time to waste.

He grabbed John by the back of his suit, turned and dragged him back to the sub. He didn't waste precious seconds trying to put a rebreather in John's mouth – it wouldn't do any good right now.

Gordon heaved John into through the airlock, tearing off his own mask as he did so. He pushed his soaking hair away from his face and then did the same for John while feeling for a pulse. Nothing.

"GORDON UPDATE!"

"He's not breathing and I can't find a pulse, beginning CPR. Virgil take control of Thunderbird 4 and bring us to the surface." Gordon was all business.

Gordon assumed the position. First 30 pushes to the chest, hard, fast and deep. He heard ribs crack as he did so. _Sorry about that, but that means I'm doing it right_. Then two deep breathes into John's lungs. Repeat.

He could feel the tension though the comms line and he was thankful that no-one said anything. He needed to concentrate.

He tried not to think of his brother beneath his hands. He tried not to think of John cold and still. He tried not to think of the last conversation they had had, because he couldn't even remember what it was. He tried not to think of whether or not he said thank you enough. He tried not to think at all because he knew those thoughts would break him.

Heart. Lungs. Heart. Lungs. He kept them going. He checked John's pulse again. Nothing. Heart. Lungs. Heart. Lungs. Pulse check. Heart. Lungs. Heart. Lungs. Pulse check. Heart. Lungs. Hear. Lungs. Pulse Check. Wait. Was that...?

Yes, the faintest of flutters. Barely even a heartbeat. But that was enough, he would take it. He went back to lungs: one, two, three, four, five deep breaths. It was number five, John's number, that gave the result they were all desperately waiting for.

John heaved and spluttered. He coughed up a lung full of cold water. And then he took a breath. It sounded painful and ragged. But it was a breath.

"He's breathing" Gordon yelled, pulling John into the recovery position to help him empty his lungs, being careful of the arm that was in a sling.

He blocked out the noise of cheering from his brothers as he put an oxygen mask on John's face.

"Can you hear me John, come on wake up." He grabbed a small torch and peeled back an eyelid to test pupil response, but stopped short of shining the light when John grabbed hold of his wrist.

For someone who sounded like they were still choking and only half conscious John's grip was surprisingly strong. Then John opened both eyes, and focused.

Gordon read the disbelief there and couldn't help but grin because he could barely believe it either.

"We got you John, we'll be home soon."

"Gordon, did you break my ribs" John spoke quietly, but Gordon could tell the humour in his voice, and it was just such a relief to hear him speak.

"Just a small token of how much I appreciate you getting yourself into so much trouble." He said with a wink, helping John sit up slightly as it would ease the pressure on his chest.

"Thanks." In that one simple word Gordon sensed am immeasurable amount of gratitude at waking up to see… anything at all. Typical John, concise as always and Gordon gave a small nod in return.

"Are you ok, how do you feel?" Alan was elated: well they all were.

"Give him a minute Alan. No, don't you dare remove that mask. Let me check you out." John let him with a sigh as Gordon had to cut through his suit to get a look at his chest and shoulder.

"Ok, so we have a nasty looking cut to the head so probably concussion. We have a broken shoulder or maybe shoulder blade I can't quite tell. We have a large bruise on his chest and some broken ribs – probably. Sorry about that by the way, but you know what they say: rather broken ribs than dead. Pulse is a little quick but regular, as is breathing. I think there is still water in there so if you get the urge to cough go with it." John just nodded, obviously trying to keep his breathing shallow due his injuries.

"Thunderbird 4 is now on the surface. Gordon you might want to take over to get back in the module."

"Will do Virgil, you scratched her up good last time." Gordon looked at his brother: face pale and pinched, husky sounding breathes and frown that spoke of the pain he would be in. But alive.

"Let's get you some fresh air."


	21. As Above, So Below

John took a deep breath, the clean, fresh air filling his lungs. It smelt of sea and forest and sand and the pool and the cool night and the promise of rain before long. He had never really noticed how complex air was. It had been two weeks since his escape from Thunderbird 5, and he felt like he was still getting used to each breath he took.

Not too deep of course. Gordon had broken three ribs resuscitating him and a further five were bruised from the power surge that had sent him flying. His shoulder – an xray had confirmed the break – gave a twinge at each inhale. At least his concussion was no longer troubling him: the headache and double vision had dissipated. Mostly. Unless he overdid it.

The journey back to the island had not been pleasant – Gordon had refused to move him to the slightly more comfortable Thunderbird 2 or give him any pain meds until he had been fully checked out. Gordon had also insisted on a stretcher one they arrived, ignoring John's protests that he could walk after a coughing fit left him gasping. Gordon was annoying when he was right.

John had gone to sit by the pool when he had woken, keen to get out of the confines of the house. He had found Scott already there.

Scott had let him sit and breathe for a few minutes before asking "Nightmare?"

John gave a swift nod. "I needed some fresh air. What's your excuse?"

"Just restless I suppose."

Scott never had been a deep sleeper – quick to wake and slow to get back to sleep so it wasn't unusual to bump into him in the middle of the night. They sat in silence for a few minutes and listened to the sound of the wind in the trees.

"I should be there tomorrow you know" John said at last.

"No." Scott's tone allowed no room for discussion. "Brains and Alan can handle the repairs to Thunderbird 5, and the new space elevator only needs to be clipped on. I'll be on hand to help as well. And to manage EOS when she comes back online." They were anticipating that she might be …... distressed... when she first worked out what had happened. She had become quite overprotective of John.

She was fitting in well with the rest of the family.

Scott went on. "We'll have comms open at all times so you can keep an eye on us. But there is no way you are going through an exit and re-entry into the atmosphere with those broken bones little brother, just no way."

"I know, I know. I wasn't really suggesting it. Just saying I should be there. I broke her after all, I should be the one to fix her."

There was another pause, as they bother considered how territorial they could all get when it came to their machines. John was willing to concede that he might the worst considering he lived in his.

"Do you think Brains is gong a bit overboard with the extra safety precautions he's putting in?" John ventured, worried that some of the extra measures might hinder rather than help. Two many systems, too much power needed, too much complexity might just cause more problems in the future.

Scott raised an eyebrow. "No, No I do not."

"Come on Scott, it was a perfect storm of events and there's no long term damage. A few extra spares would be great, but if you don't rein him in he'll build a whole extra space station up there as a 'just in case'."

Scott said nothing for a moment. _Damn, maybe I shouldn't have put that idea into his head._

"You're exaggerating John. This has proved that we need some extra safety measures in place. We got complacent – we all forgot how dangerous it is up there and it almost killed you."

"I remember" John said wryly, "but I'm fine."

Another eyebrow raise. "Fine? What was the nightmare about this time."

John gave a small huff in annoyance, he had walked straight into that one. The dreams all had a similar theme: suffocating or drowning. Perhaps not surprising.

"Buried alive."

"Well that's new." John's desire to be outside seemed to take on new meaning for Scott as he asked "You're not developing claustrophobia or anything are you?"

"I better not be. Could be tricky to deal with in space."

Scott was looking at him intently but was oddly hesitant as he said "You know John, when the time comes... when your bones are healed and system checks are all green... you know that you don't have to... I mean if you don't want to... you don't have to go back up there."

Up until that point John hadn't even thought of not going back. Oh he was sure he wasn't ready right now, but neither was Thunderbird 5 so that was ok. But he always assumed that the nightmares would stop and the clench in his gut at the thought of being alone in space would fade. After all they had been getting less intense with each passing night.

He hadn't hidden his fears. Usually he was the one the other four came to talk to when something was troubling them, but this time he had been leaning on them. Sharing his nightmares, his concerns, his plans to not let himself get in such a stupid situation again. And it was working, he thought. Though he still had nightmares they were only one a night now. And he had stopped noting how far he was from an oxygen mask at all times.

So it was with some confidence that he told Scott "I'm going back. Not yet. But I'm going."

Scott nodded with approval, but John was very glad that Scott had made the offer – the wellbeing of his brothers always was his top priority, even over International Rescue.

"Let's be honest John, you don't need any other safety features: you managed reentry with an old music player and a pair of pliers. We wouldn't want to make things too easy for you." Scott teased.

Scott stood up and but his hand on John's good shoulder. "Not that we're going to let anything like that happen again, but I've never been so glad of that big brain of yours."

The Tracy brothers didn't usually go in for big gestures as usually a high five of fist to the shoulder was enough to get their meaning across.

Right now all it took was a shared look that said 'don't nearly die on me again, I can't do this without you' and 'I don't intend to' and 'it's dangerous up there' and 'I don't ever forget it, but I know you guys are watching out for me' and 'like you're always watching out for us' and 'well it's your turn' and 'do you need me right now' and 'no, but will call you if I do' and 'promise?' and 'promise.'

A look can say a lot when you know the other person inside out.

"Goodnight then John, try and get some rest."

"Goodnight Scott."

And then John was alone with just the sky and the air and the forest around him. But he wasn't really alone, not with his brothers, his friends, his _family_ so close by. He knew that he would be going back to Thunderbird 5, he was going to carry on, because they needed him there. Because they were always there when _he_ needed _them_. As paradoxical as it might seem each person acted as a foundation for all the others and he was happy – no, content - to be part of their structure.

There was comfort to be found in knowing your place in the world, knowing there are others to surround and protect you when it's needed. So feeling that peace, and trusting that tomorrow would be better than today John fell asleep underneath the stars.


End file.
